If anyone had told me six years ago where I would be today, I would have laughed out loud — maybe even rolled on the floor.
On July 3, 2020, Todd, Hazel, and I packed up the car and headed to Arizona. Honestly, I had no real direction — only a deep need to leave. I also had a husband who, despite our differences, knew I needed to run, to step away, and to begin a new chapter.
Losing my beautiful mother changed my life in ways I am still discovering. That profound loss became a turning point — one that brought immense growth. It gave me the courage to take chances, the strength to climb many mountains (literally), and a new way of seeing nature and the beauty surrounding me. It humbled me in the deepest, most transformative way.
I am not sure why I chose to reflect on all of this today. I only know that I felt pulled back to my blog, compelled to put these feelings on paper. Perhaps it has been stirred by the warmth of our home at Christmas. So many memories have surfaced — heavy ones — and many tears have been shed. Until you experience loss, you cannot understand the difference in the way your tears fall. Trust me.
There has been such divine intervention over the past six years that some of my circumstances still leave me shaking my head in disbelief. This year alone, I was blessed to celebrate so many beautiful moments, people, and milestones: my eldest daughter’s beautiful wedding — and her acceptance into Harvard University’s Divinity School, where she is now pursuing her calling while completing her chaplaincy at UMass General; watching my son crawl out of Nashville and discover the quiet beauty of the desert (and, of course, run my restaurant alongside me). Seeing William balance two very different lives has been a gift, and it fills me with pride. And my daughter Amanda — finding her destination despite the painful things thrown her way — has been a testament to resilience. I am so proud of her independence and her realization that change is inevitable, and that family is everything.
As for my husband and me — well, it all happened fast. I will be the first to pat us on the back. We started a new life in a strange state, built a business from the ground up, and within two years became a five-star restaurant. Our customers are no longer just diners; they are friends. Yes, I am talented at what I do and what I create — but God has stepped in and been very busy blessing us. I believe my mother and father sit at His right side, helping along the way.
I do not know what the future holds for me. Honestly, I no longer feel the need to. One of the greatest things that came from my mother’s passing is this: I am no longer afraid of the end, and I am no longer afraid of taking chances. Those chances may lead to failure, or they may lead to success — but either way, they lead to living.
While I miss my mother as if she were taken yesterday, and while there is not a day that passes without her memory, I am profoundly grateful for the rebirth that came from her loss. I carry her with me — in my courage, in my gratitude, and in the life I continue to build. And for the first time, that feels like enough.
Somewhere in America 